


All the Lights Are Shining So Brightly Everywhere

by anxiously_sarcastic



Series: Sounds of Shoot [3]
Category: Person of Interest (TV)
Genre: Christmas Fluff, F/F, hope this isn't too much of a stretch
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-26
Updated: 2015-12-26
Packaged: 2018-05-09 11:54:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,366
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5538890
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anxiously_sarcastic/pseuds/anxiously_sarcastic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Look, I get it, spread Christmas cheer and all that lovely crap. So this is my gift to you: I will give you ten seconds to get off this floor before I shoot.” Shaw warned, lifting the gun up menacingly.</p>
            </blockquote>





	All the Lights Are Shining So Brightly Everywhere

**Author's Note:**

> Based off All I Want for Christmas is You. This is a little late and was an absolute terror to write and I tried my best to keep them all in character. All mistakes are mine.

_“Silent night, holy night, all is calm, all is bright, Round yon virgin Mother and Child, holy”_

The sound carried through the thick wood of the front door, causing Shaw to groan loudly. She set her beer down with a loud clang, moving towards the door, reaching for one of the various guns she had hidden throughout the house.

“Sam,” Root said in a warning tone from her spot in the living room, not even taking her eyes off of her laptop. “What are you doing?”

“I’m using my words.” Shaw deadpanned before yanking the door open.

The group of carolers initially smiled when the door opened, but that quickly changed when they got a good look at her. A few of them faltered at the sight of her deep scowl and scorching glare.

“Look, I get it, spread Christmas cheer and all that lovely crap. So this is my gift to you: I will give you ten seconds to get off this floor before I shoot.” Shaw warned, lifting the gun up menacingly. Someone screamed and what happened next closely resembled the stampede that killed Mufasa. (Yes, Shaw watched Lion King. And no, Root, that fucking scene didn’t make her upset and did not parallel her own childhood in any way. Stupid Root and her cover as another psychiatrist.)

Shaw closed the door, a smug look on her face as she threw the gun onto the counter. As she walked back into the living room, she noticed the disapproving and slightly amused look on Root’s face.

“What?” Shaw asked, innocently, grabbing her beer and flopping herself back down beside Root on the couch. “The stupid gun wasn’t even loaded. Lighten up; you’ve been spending way too much time with Finch.”

\--01010011 01101000 01101111 01101111 01110100 --

Sameen Shaw had endured months of torture. She had once spent a night hiding in a coffin. She had been dead (yes those four minutes did count). She’d killed countless people, some of them probably innocent. She didn’t get scared. But standing in the front hall of Fitzhugh Quinnell, she felt a twinge of discomfort and not the good kind (the good kind dealing with a certain hacker and any type of feelings she invoked). Parents were everywhere, most of them dressed in expensive clothing or classic soccer mom attire, and with those parents were loud brats. Most of the parents looked at her sideways, her surly look and simple black coat, sticking out like a sore thumb. (She used to have a very nice pea coat that was comfortable and looked cool, but that bitch Martine added extra holes and bloodied it up. Root had saved it from the asylum, but even Finch’s tailor couldn’t save it.)  

“Can I help you?” The receptionist was way too chipper for someone working at a private school. She probably did drugs to cope; Shaw would definitely resort to drugs if she had this job.

“I’m here to pick up Genrika Zhirova.” She answered, trying her best to sound like a normal member of society.

“Name and relation to the student, please.”

 _“Sameen Turning and foster sister.”_ Finch’s ever so helpful voice supplied in her ear. Anger flooded through Shaw, but she took a breath, trying her best to say the words in a normal tone that didn’t sound like she was planning homicide.

“Ah, yes, Mrs. Turning. We have your picture on file so no ID is necessary. Take a left on the main stairway, walk down that hall, take another left, and it’ll be the fifth room on the right.” The receptionist smiled brightly, handing her a visitor’s pass. Shaw smiled, tensely and obviously fake.

“What the hell, Finch?” She hissed her breath, as she pushed through the crowd, following the woman’s directions. “Mrs. Turning? Did Root drug me and force me to marry her? ‘Cause I’m pretty sure both parties have to be conscious for it to be legally binding.”

_“The name on Gen’s file was originally Sameen Grey, but after that cover was blown, it had to be changed in order to protect Ms. Zhirova. Marriage seemed to be the simplest way to explain suddenly wanting to change your last name. I figured you’d rather it be Ms. Groves, instead of Mr. Reese or myself.”_

“Well, no offense, Finch, but neither you or John look that great in tight jeans and there’s no way in hell I’m letting either of you into mine.” Shaw smirked, knowing that comment would just make the man uncomfortable which served him right.

She turned down the last hall, moving towards Gen’s room. “I’m here, Finch.”

_“Then I trust you have everything under control. Good luck, Ms. Shaw."_

With Harold gone out of her ear, she approached the door, which was slightly ajar. She pushed at it, ready to knock when a blur of blond hit her in the stomach. “Shaw!” Gen exclaimed, looking up at her, grinning widely. Shaw couldn’t help, but smile a little bit at the preteen, patting the girl’s curls somewhat stiffly. “Hey, kid.” After the hug started to stretch pass ten seconds, Shaw shoved at her gently, causing the kid to untangle herself from the agent.

“You got your bag?”

“I’m just putting a couple more things in.” She answered, turning to walk into the room, Shaw following. The room was small, but big enough that the two beds fit in with enough room left over. Gen’s roommate was already gone if the made-up bed and somewhat empty side of the room was any clue. “Do you think you could- never mind, I doubt you could reach it either.”

“What can’t you reach?” Shaw asked gruffly, narrowing her eyes at the dig at her height. It’s not like Gen was that tall either; except for the fact that the freaking kid still had time to grow and Shaw had reached peak height.

Gen pointed to the top shelf in her closet. “Me and Emily, that’s my roommate, we’re pull pranks on each other and Emily’s favorite is to put my stuff at the top of the closet cause she’s a lot taller than I am.”

“I know the feeling.” Shaw grunted under her breath, thinking of all the bowls and weapons she couldn’t reach since Root had moved herself in. If Shaw ever pissed Root off, the taller woman would just move something important, like her food, to a high shelf.

“And she put my shoes up there,” Gen continued, not paying any attention to Shaw’s comment. “And forgot to get them down.”

“Which side are they on?” Shaw questioned, turning to face the open closet.

“Why?”

“Why do you think? I’m gonna get them down.” Gen pointed to the left and Shaw pushed into the closet, knocking a couple pair of girly sandals to the side. She reached up, pushing onto the tips of her toes, trying in vain to find the shoes, but refusing to admit defeat in front of the kid.

“Maybe a step ladder would help.” The adoring voice came from the direction of the door. Shaw visibly froze in a way that closely resembled any cartoon character ever. “Or maybe I can lend you a hand.”

Shaw surrendered all control of her head, letting it slam into the wall; maybe she’d knock herself out.

"Ms. Maner!” Shaw barely registered the sound of Gen’s chipper voice; she was too busy wondering at her luck. How did the woman show up everywhere Shaw was? It was like a constant reminder that despite the fact Root was a team player now and they did relatively normal things together like making dinner and taking turns with chores, Root was still the same creepy lunatic.

“Sam, this is my computer teacher.”

“Former computer teacher, Gen.” Root sounded genuinely sorry. When Root had said she was undercover at some fancy private school, Shaw had never dreamed it’d be Gen’s. “They’ve finally hired a full-time teacher so I’m off to find new work.” Shaw could hear Root’s smirk that was shot in her direction.

Shaw finally turned, her gaze landing on Root. Her hair was pulled up in a bun, her work glasses perched on her face, and she was a nice, black button up and the jeans that Harold and John couldn’t pull off. “Can you just help us get the damn shoes so we can go home?” Shaw sighed, her exasperation at this whole day reaching peak level.

Root’s smirk just grew as she crossed the room in two strides, Shaw stepping back towards the bed to let Root take her place. She ignored Gen, who was staring at them oddly.

“And don’t think I didn’t notice that you’re wearing my damn shirt. It’s not even your size.”

“But it’s ever so comfy.” Root teased flirtatiously as her hands grasped the shoes. She handed them to Gen, who hopped on the bed as pulling them on and watching them with growing interest and confusion.

“Don’t put it past me to shoot you.” Shaw threatened, knowing her words would have no impact on the hacker. The woman just smiled, brightly.

“It’s a good thing I know a good doctor who can patch me up.” They stared at each other, Root looking at her with barely concealed adoration, Shaw looking at Root with exasperation.

Gen cleared her throat from her spot of the bed, gaining the attention of both woman. “I’m confused.” She said simply, her eyes asking a thousand questions. “Well, Gen,” Shaw started,

“You’re computer teacher here, Ms. Maner, is actually a psychotic conman-“

“Conwoman.” Root butted it.

Shaw ignored her. “And we work together. So that probably means someone at your school was either almost murdered or almost committed murder.” Shaw said casually, like she was just telling Gen the time.

“And,” Root continued, coming up behind Shaw, draping an arm around her shoulders. Shaw stiffened a little at the sudden contact, but didn’t shrug Root off. “We live together so you’ll be seeing a lot of me during the break.” Shaw huffed, rolling her eyes for what seemed like the billioneth time in her life. She ignored the smirk on the eleven-year-old’s face.

“Let’s just get out of here. I need something to eat.” Shaw growled, yanking up Gen’s now packed suitcase.

\--01010011 01101000 01101111 01101111 01110100 --

Shaw stared at the door for ten minutes.

The gold 402 stared back at her.

She finally took a deep breath, the air almost burning her lungs and reminding her that she was in fact human, and lifted her fist and knocked.

“I’ll get it, Dad!” She could hear the boy’s muffled voice from deep in the apartment and footsteps running. The door yanked open and she had to crane her neck up to look him in the face. He was a lot taller than he’d been at the funeral, his hair grown out a little more. His eyes, however, were so familiar.

They were Carter’s eyes.

“Can I help you?” Taylor asked, clearly confused.

“Yeah,” She cleared her throat, trying to dispel some of the awkwardness she felt as she lifted up the bag full of presents. “These are for you.” She turned, trying to flee the scene before too many questions could be asked. Before his dad could come to the door. She knew the questions that would come and the explanations that she couldn't offer.

“Wait!” He called after her. “Who are you?”

Shaw froze. How to answer that question? She didn’t know Carter for very long. They’d only worked together a few times and they had nothing in common. But Carter had been the first person to treat her almost normally. She never knew about Shaw’s personality disorder because she never asked. She just took Shaw’s gruffness in stride; never flinched at her prone for violence. She had just appreciated Shaw for what she was: a good partner and a fellow woman in a man’s world.

“I was a friend of your mom’s.” She answered simply, pulling her beanie down, and walking away, ready to make her way back home.

Carter would be so proud that Shaw had feelings to evade.

\--01010011 01101000 01101111 01101111 01110100 --

Shaw was not happy. Well that wasn’t anything new, but today, she was particularly pissed off. Harold had woke her up at three in the fucking morning and apparently the threat was “extremely imminent” and “someone’s life is more important than you’re never-ending appetite, Ms. Shaw”. So she had to drag herself out of bed (after untangling herself from Root’s freakishly long limbs that always found her in the night) and into the cold while Root and Gen were sleeping in their warm beds (no, she did not check on the tiny Russian before she left). The number had been exhausting; she had to track some stupid accountant half-way across town and then fight off six mafia members. Usually she could handle that sort of thing, she was Sameen fucking Shaw after all, but she hadn’t eaten anything or had any coffee and she was running on three hours of sleep because Root couldn’t keep her damn hands to her sexy self.

To top it off, she had left any form of money at home and Harold got upset when she commandeered vehicles for personal gain. So she was trekking her way through Central Park, freezing her ass off, wanting to just get home and drown herself in a hot bath because screw you, she was cold.

Then, as she was walking, an icy, hard ball of cold hit her in the head, soaking through her beanie and sliding down her neck. It took everything in her not to shriek like a little girl. She whipped around, catching sight of two figures darting behind a mound of snow, quickly recognizing the two pieces of shit.

A mischievous, gleeful grin spread across Shaw’s face. Taking a bitch down would make her day so much better. She scanned her surroundings, quickly darting towards a nearby tree, crouching down to gather the snow and packing into as many snowballs as she could. Within a few seconds, she’d assembled quiet an arsenal. Root was gonna pay for the snowball because it’s not like Shaw would ever hurt the kid.

Shaw waited and listened, knowing Root well enough to guess what Root’s next move would be. The hacker would try to draw her out, get her to show herself from behind the tree. Sure enough, she heard the sound of feet crunching to her left and when she whipped her head around, she caught a glimpse of Gen, wrapped in an over-sized coat and toboggan, a snowball in her little gloved hand. Shaw moved before the kid even had a chance to react, a snowball flying out to connect with her knee. Gen went flying, stumbling towards the ground, and Shaw reached out with her catlike reflexes, latching onto Gen’s arm and yanking the kid behind the tree.

A goofy, somewhat shaky smile was on Gen’s face as she beamed up at Shaw. “How did you do that?” She asked, slightly out of breath, fog forming from her words. Shaw smirked, lifting up a snowball.

“Watch and learn, kid.” Shaw had to say, out of all the satisfying things she’d ever seen in her life, Root trying to run in snow, slipping and sliding everywhere like Bambi was in the top ten. A snowball striking her in the back, sending the hacker the hacker flying face first into a snow mound was definitely number uno.

\--01010011 01101000 01101111 01101111 01110100 --

“Why do we actually have to decorate the damn tree?” Shaw groaned as she wrapped her hands around Root’s thighs, the thinner woman balanced on her shoulders. Of course Root would buy a tree so freaking big that even she couldn’t reach the top.

“Because, sweetie,” Root’s voice was strained as she reached, her shirt distractedly riding up which Shaw caught a glance of in the reflective surface of the window. “That’s kind of the point of having a Christmas tree.”

“No,” Shaw argued, watching closely as Root finally managed to get the tree topper settled and waited until Root tapped on Shaw’s head before crouching down and letting the hacker clamber off. “The point of the tree is to have something to put presents under.”

“Speaking of which, what did you get me, Sameen?” Root asked, her voice dripping sweet as she moved around to face Shaw, arms draping across her shoulders. Shaw glared at her, half-heartedly trying to shake the taller woman’s arms off. “Is it under the tree or is it something that can’t be wrapped?” Her voice dropped an octave and her eyes dragged down Shaw’s body.

Shaw rolled her eyes, pushing the woman away with a hand to the stomach. Root just laughed, moving into her stumble, turning towards the box of ornaments Shaw had acquired from a certain department store that owed her a lot.

“Remember, it’s not for me, it’s for her.” Root reminded her, quieter and with a tinge more seriousness than Shaw was used to from her. Shaw followed Root’s gaze to the kitchen where Gen sat, wearing a silly Santa hat John had given her. “Now that’s she’s our kid we have to think about this stuff.”

Shaw’s jaw dropped a little as Root brushed past her, hanging more stupid silly ball on the stupid tree. For once, she almost couldn’t tell if the other woman was serious or teasing; it a little bit of both it seemed. An not unpleasant feeling spread through her at the words. “Gen is not our kid. And there’s no way in hell I’d have a kid with you.” Shaw growled through clinched teeth, but Root didn’t seemed fazed, not even turning to look at her.

“Well, sweetie, -“ Whatever Root was about to say was cut off by the sound of Gen calling her name.

Shaw sent the hacker one last smoldering glare before stalking over to the kitchen. “What do you want, punk?”

Gen looked up at her, eyes asking for help. “I can’t do this.” Shaw took note of the blonde’s pout and internally noted that maybe she should cut down on the one-on-one time Root and Gen had been spending together before a mini-version of Root formed. “Every time I fold, the paper just tears!” She dramatically spread her arms out, motioning towards the wrapping paper on the table.

“Let me do it before you use up all the wrapping paper we have and I have to go steal more.” She ordered, taking the scissors from the kid’s hands. “Go help Root with the tree.”

Gen eagerly jumped up, skipping towards the living room. Shaw didn’t miss the “I am so right” smirk on Root’s face. Shaw just scowled, turning her attention the paper.

\--01010011 01101000 01101111 01101111 01110100 --

Shaw was barely awake when she registered the dip of the bed and a cold finger made contact with her face.

“Shaw,” Gen’s voice came in a stage whisper. Shaw stirred, eyes still closed, scowling as Gen poked her again.

“Shaw.” Another poke.

“I know you’re awake,” Another.

“It’s eleven in the morning. I’ve been waiting for hours!” Shaw tried not to smirk as she heard a huff, imagining how the blond was most likely pouting like a petulant child. “Saaammmm!”

Shaw finally wretched her eyes open, sitting up and yanking at Gen. The girl let a surprised squeak as Shaw pushed out of the bed. Gen was light enough that Shaw easily pulled her up, hoisting her over her shoulder. Gen let out a childish whine but unable to contain her laughter. Out of view of anyone else, Shaw let a shit-eating grin spread across her face.

She quickly schooled her face as she walked into the living room, eyes quickly landing on Root who hadn’t noticed them yet. That didn’t last very long as Gen let out another laugh and a “Root! Help!” Root glanced over at them, her heart-eyes making an appearance as they landed on Shaw and the kicking Gen across her shoulders.

“Sameen.” The hacker scolded playfully as Shaw stopped in front of her, bending over to dump the preteen onto the couch. Gen scrambled to sit up, patting down her messy curls. 

"Can we open presents now?" 

\--01010011 01101000 01101111 01101111 01110100 --

Later, Shaw lay stretched out on the couch, munching on a bag of chips. Turns out Gen had just bought her a shit ton of snacks and Shaw was going to complain. Or share.

Root and Gen were both sitting in the floor, the former fiddling with the set of nice guns Shaw had gotten her (Shaw was proud of herself; she’d actually bought the presents legally which was more than what she could say for the rest of the Christmas decorations), looking absolutely ridiculous in her pajamas and the blue beanie Gen had gotten her and by ridiculous she did not mean cute.

When they had asked what she wanted, Gen had just shrugged, looking a little shocked. “I didn’t expect you guys to get me anything.” She had admitted in a small voice. Shaw had been forced to turn away, pretending to busy herself in the kitchen, unable to shake the uncomfortable feeling.

Gen now sat in the floor, surrounded by remains of wrapping paper. On the table lay an iPod, a gift from Harold, and a case for it, a gift from John. (Root had commented that it was absolutely adorable that they coordinated gifts and maybe as a New Year’s resolution, they could finally come out). Gen had a new leather jacket pulled over her pajama top, looking equally ridiculous as Root, fiddling with the nice camera they’d given her along with an offer to let her help with surveillance sometime soon. The apartment was relatively quiet except for the occasional click of Gen’s camera and Shaw’s crunching. 

Shaw wasn’t sure how long they sat there; Root eventually got up, going to store her new toys in the weapons’ safe they’d gotten for Gen’s visit. Then a knock at the door broke the calm silence. Shaw shot up at the sound, body tense and alert, ready to move in a second’s notice. Nobody, not even the boys, knew their address.

“Relax, sweetie.” Root instructed as she passed, tapping her deaf ear with two fingers. “Best security system in the world, remember.”

Shaw relaxed a little, still keeping her eyes on the other woman as she moved to open the door. Root cracked the door open, murmuring quietly to whoever was there. Shaw couldn’t see the person, she could just make out the low rumble of an unfamiliar male voice. The mystery person passed some sort of crate to Root, who thanked him, hip-checking the door close as she turned to walk back into the apartment.

“What’s that?” Shaw asked gruffly, trying not to sound interested in what Root was hiding. 

“You weren’t wondering about my present to you?” Root asked, coyly. Shaw glanced over at the pile of snacks on the floor beside her; she’d kind of zoned everything else out when food had become involved.

“What is it?”

“See for yourself.” Root smirked, as she pressed the crate into Shaw’s hands.

Shaw let it rest on her lap, taking note of the heaviness, turning the crate until she caught sight of the metal mesh door. “Oh my God, Root.” She whispered as a brown and black face peered at her. She rapidly undid the latch, letting the dog sniff her as it eased out of the crate.

“He’s older, but still a puppy. He’s had some training so he won’t mess anything up and will get along fine on missions, but he still has a lot to learn. I trust that you’re up to the challenge.” Root smirked, probably gloating at how good her gift was. Shaw couldn’t bring herself to care as she scratched at the puppy’s head. “And of course, he needs a name.”

Shaw stared at the dog, seriously considering it as the puppy stared back up at her. “Cane.” She finally said, stroking the dog’s back.

“Sameen,” Root laughed. “You can’t name him that.”

“Why not?”

“I speak Italian too, Sameen. I know that means dog.” Shaw glared up at her, their gazes meeting in a stare-off. It dragged on for several seconds before Root finally caved, resting on the side of the couch and reaching down to pet the dog. “Fine, we can call him Cane. But if we ever have kids, you’re not naming them.” Of course, Root wouldn't cave without getting the last word in.

Shaw resisted the urge to roll her eyes, deciding to give a little. Since it was Christmas. “Why would we have kids? One’s enough.” She declared, jerking her head in Gen’s direction, who had been watching the whole interacting with a stupid smile which got even bigger at Shaw’s words.

“Oh, shut up.” Shaw muttered, watching as the dog jumped down, sniffing everything around him. They slipped back into silence, both women watching as Gen snapped pictures of the dog pawing at the discarded paper.

“Hey, Shaw? Since you just adopted me, can we take a family picture?” Gen asked, innocently. Shaw turned to look at her, not knowing what her face looked like. “Cane can be in it.”

“Fine,” Shaw caved, swinging her legs off the couch and leaning down to scoop the dog up. Gen passed the camera off to Root, who set it up on the television stand, setting the timer. “But I’m not smiling.”

Gen flopped down next to Shaw, reaching out to pet Cane, laughing as the dog licked her curiously.

“Trust me, no one expects you to.” Gen teased.

“Come on, look at the camera.” Root instructed as she moved to take a place on the other side of Gen, her arm wrapping around the girl.

The picture looked ridiculous, Shaw decided days later when she caught sight of it where Root had it developed and framed, Gen and Root with their mixed-matched clothes and the weird lightness in Shaw’s eyes. Maybe the Christmas stuff wasn’t so bad. As long as food and dogs were involved.

**Author's Note:**

> I've finally gotten around to getting a tumblr (anxiously-sarcastic) so go check me out. Reviews make great Christmas presents, kids.


End file.
